Her Beautiful Trail of Blood
by ScarletDevil1503
Summary: *Sister story to Cornelia: A Tale of Twilight* Carlisle's POV of Part 1 of the story; do not read this if you haven't read the original yet. Excerpt: "Forgive me. I am Carlisle Cullen." Her eyes dropped to my hand, and she stepped back as though I would use it to harm her. "Er, Cornelia," she replied faintly.
1. Chapter 1: The Storm and the Stranger

**This is a sister story to "Cornelia: A Tale of Twilight." For those of you who haven't read it, I suggest you do so if you wish to understand this story. **

**For those of you who have: Welcome! This is Carlisle's POV on the first "part" of the story. And _only_ the first part. I will not be continuing past that point. As I mentioned before, I have other POV's written (Edward's, Jasper's, others that I can't yet tell you about...), but I'll publish those in a separate 'extras' story once I've completed the main fic.  
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**For now, enjoy this new perspective. As you may notice, I've kept the same chapter titles respectively.  
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**-Scarlet**

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><p><strong><span>Her Beautiful Trail of Blood<span>**

_Carlisle's Perspective_

**Chapter 1: The Storm and the Stranger**

I was dying.

It was a strange phenomenon, as I was already dead. Each day my heart grew colder... my life dwindled further. I had tried every external method of invigorating my life – leaving for the New World, to brighter shores – but it seemed as though it was impossible to live again. If I'd ever been alive. My memories often clouded and drifted like a forgotten dream.

The time I spent with Eleazar in Canada helped me greatly. However, I'd moved on for a very justified reason. A reason which, now, eludes me completely. I don't know what drew me south; the cold, perhaps.

I stumbled across Hoquiam quite by accident, really. I'd been neglectful of my thirst in my travels, and the alluring scent of the townsfolk called me there. I was quick to establish myself, and I became an apprentice to the senior surgeon there; one Doctor Peter Whittier. He was kind to me, as well as the others in town. I employed John Stockton to build my new home just outside of Hoquiam to the south. All was well for several years, other than the sinking depression that consumed me day after day.

The specific day in question was more miserable than most others. A tempest hung over town (a good thing in my unique case), and drenched the poor inhabitants thoroughly. I stayed at the clinic until the sun went down, and declined a dinner invitation from Peter before he left for the day. The day had been relatively uneventful, and I busied myself with reorganizing some medical reports before deciding to leave. I retrieved my hat, umbrella, and medical case from the cloak room, and ventured into the night.

Raindrops were just beginning to fall from the heavens. I pulled up my umbrella against the drizzle, which soon turned into a heavy rain. I walked at human pace, my bearing set for the stables outside of town.

When I was halfway to my destination, I crossed a strange trail. The scent was unfamiliar to me, and even odder because of it. It was more definitely non-human, and had been placed there rather recently. I turned around abruptly, and gazed down the empty main street of Hoquiam. Wishing to investigate the situation further, I allowed my senses to guide me along the trail.

It wasn't long until another figure joined me on the road. I saw her small, feminine frame from a great distance. Her steps were shallow and weary, and her shoulders were hunched under the torrent weather. She carried nothing with her, save the clothes on her back. The only thing that concerned me was the unbreakable gaze she held on me, forcing me to stop walking; her hand raised to block the rain from her vision. It occurred to me suddenly - the rain between us alone would have been unsuitable for normal human sight, leave be the distance. _Is she the source of the strange scent? If so, what consequence will her presence create here?_

Her scrutiny unnerved me. It was as though she knew all my secrets by one severe look. However, I heard her inhale once, and her steps halted quite suddenly.

Several moments passed, in which we exchanged unblinking stares. Her posture was stiff and defensive, and the stance surprised me greatly. _She's knows what I am... but how could it be?_ I strode forward, and, like a polar magnet, she strafed back. Her youth, as well as her apparent knowledge of me, perplexed me greatly.

I began walking forward slowly, until I reached an acceptable speaking distance. "Hello?" I called, hoping she could hear my friendly tone over the wind. She didn't react at all, which lead me to believe that she hadn't. So, I continued walking until I reached her, and shielded her shivering frame from the rain with my umbrella.

Nothing could have prepared me for the next moment. I inhaled to speak again, and the scent that I breathed in was like none other. It held only a small resemblance to the trail that I'd followed; it was much stronger, more potent. It was sweet like sugar, tart like apples, and filled every one of my senses. I felt a small trickle of venom enter my mouth, and forced myself to swallow it. I was more tempted in that moment than I would be again for many years.

Her eyes were large as she looked up at me; the sight was amplified by her dilated pupils. The irises were aqua blue, or perhaps pale green – I couldn't be sure. Her skin was pale from the wet (or pale of its own) and raindrops clung to her cheeks and bare neck. Her chin was sharp and subtle all at once, and her shapely pink lips trembled. Her hair was dripping with water, and fell over her shoulders in thick brown waves. I heard her teeth click together softly from the cold weather.

Disregarding the allure she held for me, I became worried about her health. "Are you well, Miss?" I asked, in a voice that was hardly my own. I silently struggled with my worse half.

Her eyes, which had been lingering on my mouth, now darted up to my eyes. I felt myself falling through those blue-green depth, helpless against their attraction. It was as though they were black holes, sucking me in against my will. Fright filled them, more than before, and she stumbled back from me. "Y-Y-Your eyes!" she stuttered. Her small hand pointed accusingly at me face.

I found it puzzling that she focused on that detail. Granted, my eyes were different from others of my kind, but that wasn't what I'd expected for her notice forthright. I held out a hand in greeting nonetheless, hoping to distract her. "Forgive me. I am Carlisle Cullen."

Her eyes dropped to my hand, and she stepped back as though I would use it to harm her. "Er, Cornelia," she replied faintly.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," I said with a raised voice, dropping my hand. "May I ask what keeps you so in the rain, Miss Cornelia?"

Immediately, her head shook from side to side. Her eyes were wary now, instead of frightened. _Perhaps she's decided that I won't hurt her... but she's still cautious. What has happened in her life to make her so apprehensive?_

"Well, I suggest you get indoors before you catch cold," I said, putting as much condolence into my tone as possible.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you," she said cordially, "but I never take ill." Her tone was practical.

Her implication was apparent, but I chose not to see the truth. It made me very uncomfortable, knowing that she stood before me not quite human. I frowned deeply, but my concern for the small creature was persistent. "Might I at least offer you some shelter for this evening?" I suggested. "This weather is good for nothing."

"No, Mister Cullen," she replied curtly. "I must decline."

Her answer was almost predictable, judging by her previous actions. I could almost see her thoughts; she knew what I was. I nodded once, sharply. "Allow me to point the way to the nearest inn. I must encourage you to seek rest there," I said adamantly, pointing to the Wells' inn.

Her eyebrows shot up, in both excitement and confusion. She began moving away as she spoke, "Th-Thank you! It was a pleasure," she said hastily.

I watched her speed to the inn. Her steps were lighter than before – almost too fast to be within an acceptable human range. Theories and speculations formed in my mind as I stared after her. She was not human by any stretch of the imagination; she confounded me greatly.

After several minutes of standing there, I turned back for the stables. The encounter had been so strange, it almost seemed as though it was imaginary – too bizarre to believe. Yet, her scent lingered in my mouth, and her face stuck as a picture in my head. The strange girl had been as real as life.

As I resumed my usual mundane existence, I couldn't keep my thoughts from drifting to the young woman I'd found on the rainy street...

Cornelia.

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><p><strong>Please review. Your feedback means the world to me<strong>**, and then some****. I don't have much of this started, so you can complain about the writing; if Carlisle is out of character or whatnot.  
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**Thank you for reading. The next chapter is in the works.  
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**-Scarlet**


	2. Chapter 2: A Chat with my Uncle

**Whoa, an update! Bet you didn't expect _that_, didya? Thanks to everyone who showed some interest: LadyChandlerNorrington, WatchThisShit, and Pfachgirl. It's great to see you on the other side of the story, too. **

**Since Cornelia didn't encounter Carlisle in the fourth chapter ("Hoquiam"), I skipped ahead to the next. Enjoy.  
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**-Scarlet**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: A Chat with my Uncle<strong>

Rumors spread like a disease – this one was no different. It would be tactless of anyone, but her incompetence surprised me nonetheless. She had shown such valor the week before... I couldn't imagine that it was of her doing.

Several mornings before, Peter had congratulated me on receiving guardianship of my niece. I'd attempted to hide my shock to no avail, and had inquired after it awkwardly. He had laughed and told me that Cornelia – my niece – was staying at The Featherbed, Caleb Wells' inn. What was I to do? I assured him that I'd taken note, and would be receiving her presently.

The morning of Saturday was like any other, and arrived at the clinic within an hour of leaving my home. Peter greeted me, and set me to work on helping him write letters to the surrounding towns once more. An epidemic had began in the north, and was slowly making its way to every Indian village and white settlement on the coast.

As I began receiving patients at the appointed time, my thoughts drifted to the past week.

In standard, I didn't venture far to hunt; I owned enough land to sustain wildlife for many miles. I avoided the Hoquiam area, except for my work at the clinic. So, as I set out for my routine evening hunt the past Wednesday, I didn't expect to cross the particular scent that was carelessly left in my "territory," as it were. Apparently, my "niece" had been rude enough not to call upon my home as she passed through.

I took further time to study the scent – something I hadn't done that first night. It was distinctly feminine, with its subtle sweet perfume and its floral undertones. The only thing I could equate it to was perhaps an orange orchard, fresh in spring bloom. It wasn't human, that much of which I was certain. Beyond that point, all my personal speculations seemed outlandish.

The hours of my day tarried as the rain waxed and wanned, and I purposely busied myself more than normal. When Eleanor Wilson came in with a skinned knee, I insisted that I take the charge. Mister Wilson had been an acquaintance of mine for quite a time. All seemed well until an unexpected presence entered the establishment.

I heard her voice, strong and steady, from the receiving room. "Yes. I need to speak with Doctor Whittier."

The secretary's reply was not as elegant. "Is it about a medical problem?"

"I need to deliver a message," the girl replied.

"Papa?" small Eleanor whimpered, looking up at Mister Wilson. "Is he almost done, Papa?"

"Nearly done, Eleanor," I consoled, halfway done with the small row of stitches. "You'll be on your way soon."

I heard the sliding door of the room noisily open, and her sweet scent permeated the air strongly. My hands paused in their work, and I felt my mind becoming unfocused. I didn't turn, though I felt her eyes on my back. _Why is she here? Why now? _I forced myself to continue, though aligning the thread was more difficult than before.

"Can I help you, Miss?" Peter's rushed voice greeted.

Her voice held authority as she spoke, which was disrespectful in the situation. "Doctor Whittier, I presume?"

Peter offered a hasty introduction. I knew he was busy with the investigation, but I was shocked at his manners, or lack of. She delivered the medical report from the Quileute tribe, and he quickly dismissed himself. I heard her swift steps toward the door. _Now is the chance to set this right._ "Oh, Cornelia!" I called over my shoulder. Her motions ceased. "Don't leave just yet. I'd like to speak with you."

I pulled the last stitch through Eleanor's knee, and felt immediate regret as I reached for the scissors. I had no idea how to handle the conversation that was about to take place.

"Who is she?" Mister Wilson asked lowly, glancing up at the girl.

"My niece," I answered automatically, accustomed to the falsehood. I smiled to the small child that sat before me, who had tears brimming in her large eyes. "All finished, Miss Eleanor."

"Ah, yes. Misses Whittier did mention that to my wife. She arrived in town from Boston, no?"

I nearly frowned at the amount of gossip that had traveled so quickly. "Yes." My thoughts drifted once again, and I stood to retrieve some bandage. I heard myself utter some instructions for Mister Wilson and Eleanor, and they were presently on their way. Facing a curtained window, I wrapped the spare bandage slowly, biding for time. I couldn't force a plan into my mind... I couldn't think clearly.

Peter left some pitiful excuse before leaving, and rushed out the door in great hurry. I busied myself with penning Eleanor's visit on the records, and what supplies I'd used to treat her.

"Of course, Doctor Whittier," I heard myself say. "Farewell."

I felt an unease slip into the room as Peter left. The girl stood motionlessly by the door, as my quill scratched across the page. I finished my report, signed my name at the bottom, and noted the time on the watchface beside the record sheet.

I turned my head to her, and the sight was so comedic that I nearly laughed. Her shoulders were rigid, her fists balled white at her sides. Her expression was intense, as though she was looking into the face of the devil. Her nose was turned toward the ceiling arrogantly, which gave her a heightened maturity above her years. _Or perhaps not... though she can't be over twenty._ My mind raged on with uncertainty.

I stepped forward cautiously, and with each step, the lines on her forehead deepened. I stopped with a sensible space between us, and her head tipped back to meet my eyes. I realized that my expression was not quite collected, and I attempted to put a sort of affability there. I paused before speaking, not knowing what to say. I couldn't ignore the growing problem that her outlandish claim produced.

"I've heard a rumor that my niece is in town." I'd meant to keep the irritation from my voice, but it came out like a demand nonetheless.

Her throat constricted, and her voice wavered as she spoke, "W-Well... I-I've heard that as well."

I suppressed a smile. Her poise was defensive and haughty, yet her voice deceived her inner fear. But fear from what? _She must know what I am. She must. _"I'm sure you're aware of the inconspicuousness I wish to keep in Hoquiam."

She nodded. It wasn't quite the reaction that I'd wished for.

"And you're familiar with the reason for that desire, are you not?"

She nodded once more. "I am," she said briskly.

I sighed in impatience; another vague answer. If she truly knew, then why would she act so carelessly? Why would she bear to be in the same room? Her intents confused me. "Then how, Miss Cornelia, do you suggest we proceed from our current situation?"

Her nose suck in the air again. "Is the situation so unacceptable the way it currently is?" she demanded unpleasantly.

_Can she not see?_ "Miss Cornelia, you forget that I have a 'family member' in town that the residents expect me to support," I explained.

Her eyes narrowed, as though regarding an incompetent. "Perhaps she will fare well on her own, sir," the girl said assumingly.

"It would be irresponsible of her care provider to abandon her in such a manner."

"Perhaps she no longer requires a care provider."

I would have been insulted had I been her true relative. _She obviously views herself in an exaggerated light._ "A seventeen-year-old girl who has just traveled from Boston?"

Her jaw set in irritation. "_Eighteen,_" she declared proudly.

"Nonetheless – why is she here?"

She stared for a moment, startled by the question. I felt that she was as indeterminate as I was. Then, "That's _not_ of your concern," she snapped.

I stepped closer, wanting to shock some sanity into her. _She doesn't have her wits completely about her._ "I beg to differ."

She flinched as though I rose a hand to strike her. For a moment, she seemed to substantiate her small valor. "Doctor Cullen, what do you suggest?" she asked rhetorically.

Though the question had been asked in assumption, it still upset me. It possessed the very reason I'd been so conflicted over the past days. _What do I do with this girl?_ As I was fast discovering, she was _not_ indeed a child. She was a woman, independent and righteous, who disliked things she couldn't control... or perhaps, _control_ in general. That being, why would she come up with such a preposterous lie?

"A more important question," she interrupted my epiphany, her tone saturated with offense, "would be _your_ purpose here. Why are you a doctor? Why do you walk _among them_? And why are your eyes that _absurd_ color?"

With little success, I tried to conceal my shock. Yes, she knew what I was. Yet, she was confused by my mannerisms. It was rather simple to see, but I refused to stain her soul with the evilness that consumed my own. I refused to affiliate the ignorant girl with anything to do with my kind. Her eyes, more vivid in the candlelight of the clinic, held innocence beneath her frustration. They stared up at me, and it was then that I noticed the flecks of amber in her irises. _I must have overlooked it in the dark that night..._

"Perhaps this is not the best place for those answers."

"No," she said indignantly, turning to leave. "Perhaps not."

She hastily stole from the house.

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><p><strong>What do you think so far? Review and tell me.<strong>

**-Scarlet**


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